Summer Story part 4
12/12/04 05:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyAnd on we go to the next part of chapter six and ooo! What's going to happen?
Previous Parts are here, a little tipsy and sad, sitting in the coat closet. Poor parts.
Summer Story
Lionel stepped back and searched the house with his eyes as the helicopter took off from the pad. George stood at the French doors and waited. Even at this distance Lionel could see his body language radiated fear and subservience. Good.
He strode forward and a group of men in very casual clothes followed him as one. He passed George and handed him his briefcase.
“Make everyone comfortable in the study. I’ll freshen up first.”
George nodded a little too quickly and Lionel smiled and signaled for the group to go ahead of him. He could feel the unease pouring off of George.
“George?”
“Yes sir.” he snapped to attention in a most military way.
“I want you to run my bath for me—set out my clothes—and have Cook send a sandwich or something light to my room.”
George breathed a small sigh of relief and “Yes, sir, very good sir,” he replied.
“And George?”
George’s heart plummeted. “Sir?”
“You may remain in the kitchen.”
George didn’t trust himself to speak. He nodded and went to do as he was told. He was filled with irrational hate for the boy. He’d had to go and get himself kidnapped while his father was gone—couldn’t happen when the old bastard was home, no, It had to be now. And now George was going to pay and it wasn’t fair. It never was fair, and a whisper of sympathy for the boy snuck in. He always took the brunt of Sir’s displeasure.
Well, with luck they’d find him soon.
The man hunched over the laptop at the monstrous mahogany desk, lit by the screen in front and the red and violet stained glass of the study windows behind him. He hummed and tapped, waited, tapped again and hummed. He snorted briefly and tapped again, waited before turning to Lionel, who sipped a brandy and watched the performance with a mildly amused air. “Here it is,” He gestured at the screen.
“Loft apartment in the warehouse district. Smallville’s art district, I guess.”
“Good, well done.” Lionel remarked shortly, impatient with the man’s unasked for commentary. He put his brandy down and flipped thorough the papers on his desk—reading again the ransom note sent to him. He was appalled at the kidnappers lack of professionalism; they obviously had never done this before. Such a lack of stealth, common sense and basic intelligence, rather surprising considering their bold move.
After all, the information was available on the Luthorcorp site, detailing exactly how they dealt with kidnapping and similar situations --
No mercy, no quarter and no hostages.
Of course, there was a difference. This was no simple hostage situation. This was his beloved son and heir. He sighed. These problems took time away from his business, things that were – well. Certainly not more important than Lex.
He looked at the men standing around the room. They looked ready for anything, he thought. Very well trained. And they should be, he spent enough money on them.
“Horst," He gestured at the screen. “What do you think?”
The huge brunette examined the information and nodded.
“Two—three men. Acceptable casualties?”
A man of few words, Horst. “Any—all if need be.” The man didn’t even so much as raise an eyebrow. Horst was a treasure, no doubt. Worth every cent he’d paid for him. He left them to their planning; he had no doubt that his plan would be efficient and workable. He looked at his watch. When they began the implementation of whatever he decided, he’d give them an hour or two before calling the police. That should clear everything up nicely, and give him time to either be the triumphant and joyful father at his son’s return, or be grieving and horror-struck at his offspring’s untimely demise. He shrugged to himself. Whatever will be…
He stopped in the hall and removed a cane from the umbrella stand near the foyer.
Time to visit George in the kitchen. He was certain the idiot would be waiting. Fear, money--sex--their power could never be underestimated.
**********************
Lex bounced violently from side to side and gasped for breath. It was unbearably hot under the hood, hard to breathe, and his arms and wrists hurt so badly. He heard voices but they were muffled and his head pounded so that he could barely make out the words. His stomach flipped every time the vehicle lurched, and he prayed desperately not to throw up inside the hood.
The drive went on and on, it seemed hours passed before the vehicle stopped and he was dragged out. He bit his lip to keep from screaming, it felt like they were trying to pull his arms out of their sockets and then he was in--somewhere.
He heard a noise like someone pounding on the wall and yelling and then he was falling and he hit concrete so hard his teeth snapped together and every bone in his body jarred with the impact. There was a moment of quiet and his head swam and his eyes burned when the hood was yanked off.
“Fuckin—why’d you take the hood off, asshole?”
Lex saw a young man’s face before him, eyes wide and just starting to look…afraid. Dark hair fell into the guy’s eyes and his mouth worked briefly. A hand came down and grabbed the guy away and his face was replaced with that of an older guy’s, a blonde with a permanent sneer on his lips.
“So, Richie Rich, how the fuck are ya?” He laughed at his joke and looked Lex over. “None to worse for the wear. We wanna give you back to your old man in one piece, right?”
Lex felt the blood drain from his face. Kidnapping? What—he let his eyes close and tried to swallow. The only question he had was who was going to kill him first, these clowns or his dad. He opened his eyes again and looked past the guy in front of him to another guy in the shadows a stocky guy—familiar…the guy turned and Lex gasped. Wade?
Wade leaned past Blonde Guy and spoke so quietly, that only Lex could hear. "Lex. You’re smart. You’ve seeing our faces.” He spread his hands apart and shrugged. “Nothing personal, not really.”
tbc
eta: woops! heh-heh.
Previous Parts are here, a little tipsy and sad, sitting in the coat closet. Poor parts.
Summer Story
Lionel stepped back and searched the house with his eyes as the helicopter took off from the pad. George stood at the French doors and waited. Even at this distance Lionel could see his body language radiated fear and subservience. Good.
He strode forward and a group of men in very casual clothes followed him as one. He passed George and handed him his briefcase.
“Make everyone comfortable in the study. I’ll freshen up first.”
George nodded a little too quickly and Lionel smiled and signaled for the group to go ahead of him. He could feel the unease pouring off of George.
“George?”
“Yes sir.” he snapped to attention in a most military way.
“I want you to run my bath for me—set out my clothes—and have Cook send a sandwich or something light to my room.”
George breathed a small sigh of relief and “Yes, sir, very good sir,” he replied.
“And George?”
George’s heart plummeted. “Sir?”
“You may remain in the kitchen.”
George didn’t trust himself to speak. He nodded and went to do as he was told. He was filled with irrational hate for the boy. He’d had to go and get himself kidnapped while his father was gone—couldn’t happen when the old bastard was home, no, It had to be now. And now George was going to pay and it wasn’t fair. It never was fair, and a whisper of sympathy for the boy snuck in. He always took the brunt of Sir’s displeasure.
Well, with luck they’d find him soon.
The man hunched over the laptop at the monstrous mahogany desk, lit by the screen in front and the red and violet stained glass of the study windows behind him. He hummed and tapped, waited, tapped again and hummed. He snorted briefly and tapped again, waited before turning to Lionel, who sipped a brandy and watched the performance with a mildly amused air. “Here it is,” He gestured at the screen.
“Loft apartment in the warehouse district. Smallville’s art district, I guess.”
“Good, well done.” Lionel remarked shortly, impatient with the man’s unasked for commentary. He put his brandy down and flipped thorough the papers on his desk—reading again the ransom note sent to him. He was appalled at the kidnappers lack of professionalism; they obviously had never done this before. Such a lack of stealth, common sense and basic intelligence, rather surprising considering their bold move.
After all, the information was available on the Luthorcorp site, detailing exactly how they dealt with kidnapping and similar situations --
No mercy, no quarter and no hostages.
Of course, there was a difference. This was no simple hostage situation. This was his beloved son and heir. He sighed. These problems took time away from his business, things that were – well. Certainly not more important than Lex.
He looked at the men standing around the room. They looked ready for anything, he thought. Very well trained. And they should be, he spent enough money on them.
“Horst," He gestured at the screen. “What do you think?”
The huge brunette examined the information and nodded.
“Two—three men. Acceptable casualties?”
A man of few words, Horst. “Any—all if need be.” The man didn’t even so much as raise an eyebrow. Horst was a treasure, no doubt. Worth every cent he’d paid for him. He left them to their planning; he had no doubt that his plan would be efficient and workable. He looked at his watch. When they began the implementation of whatever he decided, he’d give them an hour or two before calling the police. That should clear everything up nicely, and give him time to either be the triumphant and joyful father at his son’s return, or be grieving and horror-struck at his offspring’s untimely demise. He shrugged to himself. Whatever will be…
He stopped in the hall and removed a cane from the umbrella stand near the foyer.
Time to visit George in the kitchen. He was certain the idiot would be waiting. Fear, money--sex--their power could never be underestimated.
**********************
Lex bounced violently from side to side and gasped for breath. It was unbearably hot under the hood, hard to breathe, and his arms and wrists hurt so badly. He heard voices but they were muffled and his head pounded so that he could barely make out the words. His stomach flipped every time the vehicle lurched, and he prayed desperately not to throw up inside the hood.
The drive went on and on, it seemed hours passed before the vehicle stopped and he was dragged out. He bit his lip to keep from screaming, it felt like they were trying to pull his arms out of their sockets and then he was in--somewhere.
He heard a noise like someone pounding on the wall and yelling and then he was falling and he hit concrete so hard his teeth snapped together and every bone in his body jarred with the impact. There was a moment of quiet and his head swam and his eyes burned when the hood was yanked off.
“Fuckin—why’d you take the hood off, asshole?”
Lex saw a young man’s face before him, eyes wide and just starting to look…afraid. Dark hair fell into the guy’s eyes and his mouth worked briefly. A hand came down and grabbed the guy away and his face was replaced with that of an older guy’s, a blonde with a permanent sneer on his lips.
“So, Richie Rich, how the fuck are ya?” He laughed at his joke and looked Lex over. “None to worse for the wear. We wanna give you back to your old man in one piece, right?”
Lex felt the blood drain from his face. Kidnapping? What—he let his eyes close and tried to swallow. The only question he had was who was going to kill him first, these clowns or his dad. He opened his eyes again and looked past the guy in front of him to another guy in the shadows a stocky guy—familiar…the guy turned and Lex gasped. Wade?
Wade leaned past Blonde Guy and spoke so quietly, that only Lex could hear. "Lex. You’re smart. You’ve seeing our faces.” He spread his hands apart and shrugged. “Nothing personal, not really.”
tbc
eta: woops! heh-heh.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
12/12/04 10:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
12/13/04 12:30 am (UTC)(no subject)
12/13/04 12:20 am (UTC)*kicks Wade in the balls*
*runs away with Lex*
Please fix it!
(no subject)
12/13/04 12:32 am (UTC)(no subject)
12/13/04 02:25 am (UTC)Evol bitca!
Lionel is really, really a complete and utter knob, isn't he.
*pets Lex*
Oooh, now, how's this gonna work out?
Hrmmmmmm.
:)
*bounce*
Wheeeee!!
(no subject)
12/13/04 05:15 am (UTC)Lionel is a dick, plain and simple. *nods*
(no subject)
12/13/04 05:28 am (UTC)*snogs you*
(no subject)
12/13/04 03:48 am (UTC)That was really stupid of the guy to take off the hood. This is going to end badly for the kidnappers.
Where is Whit? He's in the loft somewhere, isn't he? Eeeek!
Lionel=asshole. phtthhh!
(no subject)
12/13/04 05:17 am (UTC)(no subject)
12/13/04 04:16 am (UTC)I no longer feel anything for Wade: all is right with the world.
(no subject)
12/13/04 05:18 am (UTC)cute
12/13/04 09:28 am (UTC)Say bye-bye, Wade. You ain't long for this world, even if you do think you have the upper hand now.
Clark!!!! Save your sweetie!
Re: cute
12/13/04 03:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
12/14/04 07:09 am (UTC)(no subject)
12/14/04 07:22 am (UTC)